I’m never on time, it seems.
Leaving things behind
Only to need them later.
On rainy days
I always remember my umbrella
And wait in my place
For the next bus to come.
Every day I take my place
Rain or shine
As I wait for the next bus to come.
It’s the rainy season now
Constant downpour, sprinkling
A never-ending drizzle
And the pitta-patta of drops on my umbrella.
All the same, my shoes are soaked
Convenient and dressy slip-ons
But I forgot to wear my boots today, instead.
Ah, the thing I left behind–won’t be a surprise later, then.
I hear splashing from my left
And slightly lift my umbrella to see someone
Running, dashing through the rain
Briefcase held overhead to shield already mussed hair
Skewed tie scarcely around his slim neck.
He slows, so as not to splash the other waiting bus-goers
Panting, shivering, breath misting in the grey air
Thankful not to have missed the bus.
We stand for a moment, and he checks his watch
The bus should be here by now, late, late
And I gently nudge his briefcase with my umbrella.
He looks up, tilts his head to see underneath
And I lift up to see out
Inching over to cover him, as well.
So close I can feel the shivers
Feel his shaky, breathy ‘thank you’
And make out the design on his light blue tie.
Looks like rain today.
Umbrella by koyamori